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PAST

"WHAT'S WRONG?" Y/n frowned, glancing at a silent Andrei. It had been about two weeks since they met—and once Y/n had caught him struggling to put on the bandages around his eyes, and had helped him. He never got a chance to see his eyes, however. "You've been looking so worried."

"I'm not worried," Andrei looked back at him, frowning too. "Just..."

Y/n leaned against the wall, propping his arms on the pillows. Tilting his head, he opened his mouth to lightly tease Andrei, "so you are worried. Two weeks is long enough to discern your emotions."

"The Sidorov Organisation is about to attack. They harmed my brother."

"Sidorov?"

"An organization opposing ours. The two organizations will never reach a union. And this time, my brother was caught in the crossfire. Thankfully, he's still alive—but he's hurt."

"But you don't like him, I thought," Y/n furrowed his eyebrows. "Isn't that good?"

"Yes, if you think about it." Andrei sighed. "But the minute they find out about my existence, it's over. I'm still weak, I'm in a vulnerable position...I'll be used as my family's pawn."

"I'll help you again if you get hurt."

"Sounds to me like you're wishing on my downfall," Andrei said wryly, before a rare, soft smile appeared on his face. "I'll take your word, Y/n."

Y/n. It was always comforting to hear his name roll off someone else's lips with such ease and gentleness. For too long Y/n had hated the sound of his name: its syllabuses coming off with fiery heat from his father and mother's tongue, always drenched in fury.

"Don't worry about it. Just rest," Y/n grinned. "I'll come everyday and I'll visit you without fail. I promise."

Andrei stared at Y/n, before that smile grew bigger, just a tiny bit. Nevertheless, Y/n was comforted by that warmth: he was encouraged by it.

"Promise?" Andrei's voice was almost a whisper. The boy had no one by his side. And he would be damned if Y/n L/n, his new friend, was ripped away from him. How would he live without him? His days of perpetual, torturing loneliness had dissipated with the (h/c)-haired boy around.

"Promise."

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The strawberry ice cream was delicious. It had been icy cold: its coolness had even burned Y/n's tongue and had caused his brain to freeze. Andrei had watched him slowly eat it, its pink staining his lips—and the Tsar's eyes had traveled to it intentionally; his Adam's apple bobbing. Almost like he was restraining himself; almost like he had been...

Y/n cast those thoughts from his mind quickly.

"You're not eating it yourself?" Y/n frowned, tilting his head. "You only got a single scoop. Wasn't it your favorite?"

"The chef ran out of strawberries. I asked them to run down the store to get more. Why don't you feed me a scoop, then?" Andrei cooed. His voice was terribly lilting. Terribly enchanting, and in light of the new memories Y/n had regained, he had found himself—frighteningly—to be easily swayed by the man. His forest green eyes had little stars and constellations in them that twinkled merrily at him and his dimples—oh heavens, his dimples—they were adorable.

Y/n had to flicker his gaze somewhere else.

"You should have told me earlier. I must have looked like a glutton," Y/n murmured, embarrassed. He scooped up a small scoop and was about to pass the spoon to Andrei, but the golden haired man looked at him expectantly.

"—I thought you wanted a..." it took a while for Y/n to slowly get what Andrei was hinting at. "...oh," he said tonelessly, "you want me to feed you."

"Right." Andrei hummed. It was maddening how the Tsar knew exactly what he was doing; like a predator coaxing his prey to do his bidding. And it was even more terrifying that Y/n abided, and gingerly brought the strawberry ice cream to the Tsar's lips. Andrei swallowed it down, and murmured softly.

"How pleasant indeed."

"The chef really did—"

"How pleasant the sight is," Andrei corrected. "I must say, it certainly brings back fond memories to such a familiar sight. You try your hardest not to smile at me when you feed me. Must you be so adorable, Moy Sladkiy?"

I wasn't trying to hide a smile.

"...Don't you have work?" Y/n sighed after a stretch of silence. "Or are you going to claim that you are the leader, and thus you are free to have off days as you wish?"

"As unfortunate as it is, I do have a rather important meaning today." The green eyes bored right into Y/n's own. "Will you miss me, Y/n?" His words were deliberate, slow, and cunning. The smile on his face was beginning to morph into a satisfied smirk. Y/n was acutely aware that the tip of his ears were beginning to redden, and he popped the last of the ice cream in his mouth so as to avoid answering.

"See you," Andrei whispered softly, ruffling Y/n's hair. His lips planted on Y/n's cheek in a chaste, quick motion, but Y/n could still feel its touch lingering long after Andrei pulled away."

"See you, Andrei." Y/n murmured back, and the light on the Tsar's eyes was enough to make Y/n feel happy; in a way. Fulfilled, endearing. Y/n smiled at him slowly, and Andrei closed the door gently behind him.

It was funny how fast the room became so empty after his presence left.

Actually, Y/n thought to himself, shouldn't I go to get ice cream for him? I'm pretty sure that's a place down the road...

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The ice cream in the tub was already beginning to melt. Y/n didn't put it in the freezer as it meant he had to enter the kitchen—and that would also mean bumping into people he didn't know. Y/n knew he was safe with Andrei, but for the moment the Tsar was away, and Y/n was alone; with no safety backing him. Y/n had been trained in self defense once, but against a deadly weapon like a gun he did not trust himself to make it out alive.

He's taking a long time, Y/n thought to himself. His fingers traced the roses that Andrei had bought him; one beautiful bouquet sitting in the corner. Books were laid neatly on the table but Y/n was far too antsy to even think about reading. His fingers moved against the petals, absentmindedly moving down to the stems, and—

Prick. Blood flowed out from where his thumb had been stabbed from a thorn. There were no roses without thorns. Y/n gave an exasperated huff and stood up—preparing to go to the bathroom to let his wound be cleaned under running water. Some said it was an ominous sign and bad luck, but Y/n didn't care much of it. Studying the wound he wondered what Andrei's reaction would be—wait, why was he even thinking of him?

I must be going crazy, Y/n turned off the tap. Then he turned it on again, allowing the rushing, gurgling water to drown out his bristling thoughts. It must be because the memories that are slowly coming back to me are interrupting my train of thoughts.

The water switched off and Y/n laid on the bed. What time was it now? Why hadn't Andrei returned? He had slept for a while. And when he woke up he had been covered with sweat and suddenly the room seemed hot, then cold. Y/n had also measured his temperature and while there was still a slight fever, the discomfort he felt was strange. It was like he was awaiting something: something unnerving. The sun was already beginning to set but still there was nothing, absolutely nothing—!

—Then there was an eruption and explosion of noise. Shouts, screams, panic. Y/n found himself bolting out of the door, watching maids—watching doctors—scramble about in a frenzy like scattered rats in a corn maze. Y/n grabbed one of them by the arm desperately, and his eyes searched for answers. All he found was fear.

"What—" Y/n managed to gasp out, the unsettling feeling rising in him, spiraling out of control til he felt suffocated, like he was drowning. The thumb that had been pricked earlier by the rose throbbed. "—what is going on? Where is the Tsar? Where is Andrei?"

"Sir L/n," A doctor looked at him with fear in his eyes. "The Sidorov Organisation attacked earlier. And the Tsar seems to have been injured rather severely. Apparently a bomb had been planted, and—"

That was enough information.

Y/n's feet flew past corridors and and his hands grappled for doorknobs, and when he finally arrived at the situation, Y/n felt like he could die—all the air had been ripped out of his lungs painfully. His legs moved forward; stumbling one after another, before his eyes rested upon the scene.

Andrei. Lying on a bed with red staining the bedsheets. His blood, jetting out from the wounds all around his body. His breaths were almost hollow like; and his green eyes were open slightly, which had a faint flicker of light when he saw Y/n enter. A doctor was by his side with antiseptics and small cotton buds; it seemed all the wounds thankfully, had been external. But still, severe, and would have infections if not treated.

"...Andrei," Y/n choked out. See you later, was what Andrei has said. And then there was the strawberry ice cream in the other room melting away, the roses wilting away, and Andrei...

"It's not a pretty sight," the Tsar still managed to speak. His voice was silky, but held some sort of fragility; weakness. "Close your eyes, Y/n. Don't dirty it with such a sight. I should have come back sooner. Did you miss me?"

"I did." Y/n rasped out. Those words weren't a lie after all. "I missed you very much, Andrei, so..."

Why does it seem like he's dying? Like his slowly falling from my fingers, out of my reach?

"He's severely wounded," the doctor said gravely, "it's lucky he got to me soon, or he would have been—dead. He insisted on trying to find you first, but..."

"Will he—die?"

"...We cannot say anything yet. It might look external to you, but it seems the bomb has managed to hurt his internal organs too. It helps that the Tsar is extremely powerful; and his body has built up a certain resistance, but still..."

So it's a possibility.

Oh god. Andrei, gone. No, not gone—here he was, drenched in crimson. Y/n had never known he would despise a color so much—was it not the color of the roses that he laid at his grandmother's grave all the time, or tye color of the roses that had pricked him?—but now he did. Because the red staining his body, his once pristine clothes; his hair...it was all so viscerally crimson and Y/n found his breaths shaking, punctuated by quick, short breaths. He couldn't think; he couldn't feel; all his fingers did was fumble around to try locate the source of the injury, all while Y/n's eyes desperately roved around to Andrei's low dips of his chest.

You have to be alive. You cannot go yet; when I have not even begun to remember all of you.

To see him lying in that blood-red naked bed, Y/n knew he was aching. But aching for what, exactly? He was searching for something. A semblance of order, a sense of false calmness to lull him into peace. But there was none; Y/n was calling out his name in ragged breaths, his fingers trembling.

If Andrei was dying, Y/n thought to himself, was he witnessing the seven best moments of his life flashing by?

And if so, was Y/n selfish enough to hope that all those seconds consisted of him?

"Fuck," Y/n murmured under his breath, trying to stem the wound with tears stinging his eyes. "Just—please don't close your eyes, please," Y/n pleaded. He was too scared Andrei would die like his grandmother; he was so nervous, terrified of the hands slipping from his grasp and the body turning cold. "I'll..."

Y/n thought back to the words he said to Andrei before. "I'll help you," he breathed shaky, "I'll bandage you and make sure you heal. So please don't..."

"You used to frown at me like this last time, too."

"Can you not say anything?" Y/n bit his lip. "Just make sure you don't...die." The last word was said softly. Y/n feared if he said it loud enough, it would be true.

"Dying while looking at your face is reassuring. At least I'll know I saw an angel before I died."

"Stop saying such morbid things," Y/n took a cloth and tried to stem the bleeding. He didn't pry any of the shards from the skin. Y/n didn't want any further blood loss. He remembered bits and pieces of his memory, healing and helping Andrei, but now it seemed the muscle memory was kicking in. The doctor had gone to find more ointment, maybe. But now they were the only two left in the room. And the tension was stifling.

"Does it hurt?" Y/n said after a pause. His voice was still shaky and he felt a weakened hand thread though his hair, soft and gentle. "Tell me if it hurts..."

"You're really distraught."

"Who wouldn't be? You come here, dragging blood...you come here, near-death...who wouldn't be?" Y/n's voice cracked. "Is this what you have to go through everyday? Is this..."

"You make everything better," Andrei gave a warm, affectionate sigh. "I think if you kiss me, my wounds will get better."

Y/n hesitated. Andrei was teasing again; he was joking, obviously. But if these was the last time...if this was the last time, then—

No, but not on the lips. Y/n couldn't bring himself to do that. Andrei was appealing to me, yes, but in such a state, Y/n had little doubt that Andrei would get...excited if Y/n did kiss him. And if he did that; then wouldn't his wounds just...

Y/n pressed a kiss to his cheek softly, and pulled back immediately. Andrei's eyes widened and despite Y/n's disapproval, the Tsar moved his fingers to touch the spot that Y/n had just kissed.

"Huh," Andrei muttered under his breath. "So you..."

"Get well soon." Y/n murmured softly, shutting his eyes. "I'll be there when you wake up."

So please wake up.

"I love you, Moy Sladkiy," Andrei called out affectionately, his hands grasping at Y/n's. Y/n allowed their fingers to intertwine: there was the warmth he was missing so much. It was not cold, like his grandmother's hand had been in death. Andrei was alive, breathing, with him.

And that was better than anything.

Y/n exhaled; exhaustion riddling his body. For some reason the feelings of anxiety had yet to leave his body and his mind remained in perpetual agony, in pain. Y/n wanted to speak and reply, but his throat was strained from crying. He felt overwhelmed, overstimulated by everything. The shouts and screams in the mansion, the clanking of feet against the ground, even the mindless chatter of the maids.

Everything seemed too much.

I have willed myself not to open my heart to you, Y/n thought to himself. So why, Andrei?

Tell me, why does my heart choose to ache for you so?

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thoughts? how was this chapter? sorry it was a little off... thank you for 30k reads and yay! one act done and dusted! two more 😈😈